


Intermission

by absolutrash, Professor_Maka



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutrash/pseuds/absolutrash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Maka/pseuds/Professor_Maka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near sisters Tsubaki and Maka are reunited in the depths of the woods in Kalacanda. It would be a perfect reunion, if only their partners didn't want to kill each other.</p><p>This is a non epistolary bridge between our 2014 Resbang Letters to My Sister and our forthcoming 2015 Resbang Sisters Sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> As indicated in the summary, this fic is non epistolary. It is written from Black Star and Soul's POVs and fills in the gap between our first and second resbang.
> 
> Thanks go to fabulousanima, ilarual, bendandcurl, and earthshines for the eyes on this one.

When the third branch smacked him across the face, Black Star decided that it was high time he take the lead. Conscientious and considerate though Lady Nakatsukasa was, forest trekking was most likely not in her upbringing -- and, quite frankly, Black Star thought, her trailblazing etiquette was shit.

 

The assassin opened his mouth to suggest they take a break, but got a mouthful of pine needles instead. Spluttering -- the bastard things tasted _horrible_ \-- he abandoned all propriety and grabbed the lady’s arm right as she reached up to push aside another low-hanging branch. Tsubaki looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in a surprised expression that would have likely won her a slew of suitors had her fate been different, but made his stomach clench all the same.

 

He gave her a rough smile; when her eyes flicked down to his mouth, his face heated up and he closed his lips, certain that there were pine needles stuck in his teeth. “My lady, why don’t we stop here?”

 

For a reason he couldn’t fathom, Tsubaki’s cheeks tinted pink, and she quickly turned her gaze upwards and away from him. “But surely we run short on time,” she said, attempting to squint up through the thick canopy to tell the position of the sun,

 

Black Star bowed his head to hide his smile, though she wasn’t looking towards him; a sheltered court lady like Tsubaki Nakatsukasa attempting to tell the time like a warrior – it was a story that would have earned him a couple tankards back in the barracks.

 

He released her wrist as he straightened up. His hand closed unconsciously at the sudden loss of her warmth, curling around the tingles the brief but intimate contact had brought, trying to keep the feeling there even when its source was gone. And rightly so, he scolded himself; a lowly guardsman like him had no place touching such a refined woman. Maybe someday he would be free to touch whomever he pleased, but this was not such a time.

 

“Yes, I understand,” Black Star said once he had regained his composure. “However, we are all but at the meeting point, and there is still much I would like to discuss before we meet with Dame Albarn.”

 

The noblewoman cocked her head to the side and stared at him; Black Star felt a familiar itching in his mind -- the feeling of her trying, once again, to break through the mental and verbal walls he had set between their Bond. His face fell into an impassive mask and he gave the Queen-to-be a chilly look.

 

The nobility never had understood boundaries.

 

“Lady Nakatsukasa,” Black Star said, her name a warning to both her and himself; just because she _seemed_ different than the rest didn’t mean she _was_. He shouldn’t have even agreed to be her guide and guard on this foolish errand. But he couldn’t turn her away - not when those eyes of hers were lit with such excitement he hadn’t seen since the days at her home when they would walk together at midday.

 

He was but a man, now, and she a beautiful goddess, and who was he to deny her wishes?

 

But on this -- on having her so intimately inside his mind, as she was before -- he must force himself to draw the line. This alliance, this closeness of her once more walking by his side was but temporary, and he could not forget the reasons he must force such distance between them.

 

“Must I remind you - _again -_ of the dangers of your actions? We cannot be Bonded -- as far as I’m concerned we are not bonded -- and I would appreciate it if you would stay the hell out of my mind!”

 

Her head jerked back as though he had slapped her, but it felt like he had stabbed a knife in his own gut. Tsubaki dropped her gaze, then, hands moving to fold in skirts that weren’t there; she had borrowed a pair of trousers and a jerkin from one of the female guards, and still wasn’t comfortable in them. When she had showed up at the servants’ gate, leather clinging to her long legs, Black Star had had to excuse himself for a moment; the woman had no self awareness, and it would likely get Black Star killed, should he ever allow his guard to drop.

 

“I simply thought it would be the most efficient way to ensure we were indeed of one mind,” the noblewoman explained in a small voice.

 

The guard turned his back on her so he wouldn’t glare at his future queen. “We shall discuss it as the poor man does -- with words and an ounce of faith in one another.”

 

There was a moment of silent contemplation between the two, filled with nothing but the rustling of leather against roughspun wool. Black Star peeked up at her as he settled in the soft moss, took in the way her mouth worked as she chewed on the inside of her lip -- one of her nervous habits he had noticed during their time together -- and the way she stood, curled in on herself with her head bowed, brows drawn. He knew that look of hers, too, had seen it many times in her conversations with Ass-amune. Tsubaki was collecting herself, pulling her emotions in close and burying them down deep, down where neither her eyes nor her tongue would betray her true feelings.

 

He wanted to reach out to her, to reassure her with gentle touches and soft words -- the way he would have when they traveled alone together towards the relative safety of Asura’s castle -- that he was not Masamune, and he would never betray her like her brother had. But that would be a lie of the worst sort, for here he was, driving this wedge between them, even when he had sworn on his life that first night, when they had huddled under his still-damp cloak around a small campfire, that he would protect her, that he would stay by her side for eternity, if he must, but he _would_ keep her safe.

 

Perhaps he fit in better with Asura’s cronies than he thought; perhaps he was just another spoke on the wagon wheel. The walls he built between their Bond were falling quickly, and he tightened his grip on his knees to stop his hands’ shaking.

 

With a deep breath, Tsubaki squared her shoulders, took a casual step back toward the edge of the clearing; she was collected, she was impervious. And she was beautiful. And he had to look away.

 

Black Star tugged at the leather bracelet he wore to cover the triangular brand of the Fraternity. The feeling of her thoughts as she observed him rolled over him, and he tasted the copper of a bit tongue -- his or hers, he wasn’t sure he knew anymore.

 

"And how much faith do you have in me, sir?" Tsubaki asked in a quiet voice, leaning primly back against the rough bark of a gnarled oak. She painted an odd picture, a queen in a warrior's garb -- beauty and grace and steel, like a lioness surveying her pride.

 

Black Star took a deep breath; her words were measured and measuring, and he knew she was verbally testing the weakness she had felt in his guard. "What do you intend to tell Dame Albarn?"

 

Lady Tsubaki was silent once more, and Black Star dropped his eyes away from her intense gaze. He fiddled uncomfortably with his boot knife, running the calloused tip of a finger along its length, testing its sharpness -- doing anything to distract himself from the fact that he was so unbalanced, so close to the edge of letting his carefully maintained control slip.

 

She was silent for so long that when she began to speak, he jumped at the sound, yelping when he jammed his finger down on the edge of the blade. Some assassin he was, he thought, watching in morbid fascination as his cupped hand almost instantly filled with blood. Tsubaki was at his side in a second, though, gentle hands relaxing his own and inspecting the wound. He felt his heart stutter out of rhythm at her proximity, chest tightening as he looked down at the top of her head, long dark hair pulled into an adventurer's knot.

 

Had she learned that specifically for this trip, to blend in better with his practiced gait and common appearance, or had the rightful owner of the leather jerkins and vest done it for her as an afterthought? He ought to beat them to a pulp and then thank them for their service.

 

Black Star shook his head at the thought and jerked his hand back. “It’s fine,” he snapped, voice gruff. The noble gave him a sardonic look, eyebrow raised as she glanced between his freely bleeding finger and stubborn expression. “Or, it will be,” Black Star amended before popping his finger in his mouth and licking the excess blood away. It welled up again just as quickly, but a strip of passably clean linen would serve well as a makeshift bandage.

 

“Good as new,” he informed her, holding up the stained digit as proof.

 

The noblewoman sat back on her heels, raising her hands in surrender. “It is your finger, if you lose it.”

 

“A cut this small cannot possibly hope to kill someone as great as me!” Black Star scoffed, but inspected his wound suspiciously nonetheless. It was going to be a bitch to heal, he knew, and would probably need stitches; for now, though, it would do.

 

With a sigh, he refocused back on his companion; there were so many reasons to be distracted when she sat so near to him. “Please don’t forget my question, Lady Tsubaki.” Her given name slipped off his tongue before he could stop it, and he scowled his answer to her pleased smile.

 

She made a small noise in the back of her throat as she thought, and Black Star squeezed his eyes shut. _This damn woman_. He considered sending a prayer up to the gods, but he didn’t feel confident in the gamble that they would actually help him this time; it was the hour of Sainkan in the Month of Separation, and the goddess had a special hatred of lovers’ prayers when She herself was away from her love.

 

Tsubaki cleared her throat timidly, and Black Star refocused on her. She was pulling at a twig caught in the laces of her boot, and worry stiffened his spine in anticipation for what her answer would be. “I -- I was thinking that, maybe, I would...stay in Kalacanda?”

 

The assassin felt his heart stop. “No,” he said quietly, and then more emphatically as he got air back into his lungs, “ _no_. Tsubaki, that is -- that’s Eibon’s own fool optimism!” Her eyes flashed when he took her god’s name in vain, but Black Star was scrambling to his feet, was reaching out to grasp her desperately by her shoulders, to make her _understand_. “Do you understand the danger that awaits you, should you stay? Will you piss on Skyouki’s shrine next?” He’d thought he’d made his point, but she just stared at him as though _he_ was the one who’d gone absolutely mad.

 

“Will I _what_?”

 

Black Star made a noise of frustration, and threw his hands into the air, striding away a few steps, before turning around and putting his finger in her face. He spoke his next words very slowly, so there was no chance she’d misunderstand. “Your very _life_ is forfeit if the Master so much as _thinks_ you might know a portion of what you _do_ know! And you want to _stay!_ The only more fool thing you could do is to personally offend the goddess of insanity. Who knows! Maybe she’ll make you her right hand next time!” He laughed loudly, wildly.

 

Tsubaki tried to reach placatingly towards him, but he slapped her hands away. Her gaze was still calm and steady on his own, though, even as he all but lost his mind. “I refuse. I will carry you over that damn border and lock you in some tower myself, if I must.” Black Star broke the rest of his walls down, and shoved his feelings, his worry, his utter fear through their Bond. The Wizard’s eyes widened -- afraid, surprised, panicked -- Black Star didn’t know, but he hoped she got his point. “I am not lying, Tsubaki. I swear to the gods themselves that I will tie you up and strap you to Albarn’s horse if I must. But you _are_ leaving this gods damned country.”

 

Tsubaki’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, and his stomach dropped with his knees to the mossy ground. “My dear Black Star, I’m afraid, then, that we will have a very serious problem. I know you object to our Bond, though you use it now, but whether or not you agree to it -- we _are_ Bonded. And we cannot be separated without some great repercussions. Regardless, even if you _do_ find some miraculous way to force an end to this connection, I am still not leaving. I finally have the chance to do something for my country, for the place that raised me and loved me, and I cannot sit back in my castle, like some princess separated from reality. I could not live with myself if I chose the cowardly path and my family paid with their lives for it.”

 

Her words resonated with him, and the feelings that passed through their Bonds, her constant fear for her Maka; the continued grief and guilt she felt over the murders of her guards -- her family when they were attacked by bandits; the hope that her brother would return, the fear that he was lost forever, and the fondness she still held for the Masa her younger self had known and loved. His face tightened in a conflicted frown and Tsubaki smiled sadly. He knew her feelings, knew the needless loss of family, knew the grief and guilt that choosing the Dark God’s path could bring -- knew that she needed to do this for her own sanity, as much as he needed to send her away for his. He could not hope to have the courage to fulfill the Fraternity’s mission if she stayed; could not leave her alone with such evil as was Asura, should he and the Fraternity fail.

 

He still held the secret of the Fraternity close to his heart, but even had she known, he could never have hoped to make her understand his feelings, could never risk feeling the hope she might return them.

 

Black Star blew a lungful of air out, shoulders falling even as his heart rose in his throat, choking his next words. “Why do you have to be so damn _noble_?” he muttered bitterly, glaring half-heartedly up through his pine-needle-filled hair.

 

When did he get to be so damned _weak_?

 

Her smile rivaled the sun, and his stomach joined his heart, tying itself up in knots. Tsubaki half rose to her knees, but, as he noticed with bitter irony, she’d barely managed to keep from launching herself at him. Instead, cheeks burning – he felt his ears heat up as well; when had he last blushed before meeting her? – she folded her hands formally over her chest, bowing low enough that the hair that had managed to escape the complicated knot brushed the dirt. Black Star spluttered, trying to force several sentences out at once.

 

Giving up on his tongue, he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, raised her chin so they were eye-to-eye – equals. Had he ever truly allowed himself to _look_ into her eyes? They were beautiful in an ethereal, disquieting fashion; he was drowning at the bottom of the Eastern Sea, he was communing with the gods among the stars, he was falling into a bottomless pit and he was going willingly.

 

What was it about her that completely unwound everything he had worked so hard to build?

 

“Listen until people are done speaking, damn it,” he scolded her, as though she weren’t three years his senior, as though she weren't the one who had just gotten her way. The way her eyes sparkled as she nodded with feigned sincerity made him purse his lips with annoyance just as false.

 

“But I _do_ have your blessing, no?” she asked, voice lilting in an accent so refined it screamed the difference in their stations at full volume back to him.

 

Black Star glared his assent. “Grudgingly, but aye, you do have my word. This is damned foolish of you, and I’m an even greater fool for agreeing to it, but I’ve always been called an idiot, so that’s that.”

 

“ _Oh_ , _thank_ you!’ Lady Nakatsukasa all but shone, a torch in dark cave, and Black Star slammed the butt of his dagger into his forehead.

 

He _was_ an idiot, wasn’t he? She was his _queen_. Well, his _future_ queen. His future queen who flirted with _death_ , and thought it would be fun to court death’s right hand: King Asura.

 

She was raging mad, and he was falling in --

 

“Guidelines!” Black Star squawked out. “There are guidelines! Rules! Codes of conduct. This god has orders!”

 

Tsubaki raised a brow, but nodded her head. “Speak, oh great, oh mighty Black Star.”

 

“One!” He pulled one stiletto blade from his sleeve, and Lady Tsubaki _ooh_ -ed just as he had hoped she would. “You must stay in my range of vision at all times!”

 

“The dressing room, as well?” came the smirked inquiry and Black Star thought his face was on fire.

 

“No! No, of course not! That’s indecent, m’lady.”

 

“But you just said--”

 

“Fine! One! You must stay in my sight at all times that wouldn’t result in me losing my head or my -- “ he broke off, and cursed his genes as he felt his face heat up even more. “Two!”

 

“Your what?” Tsubaki asked, all wide eyes and innocence.

 

“Two! All ideas and decisions must be brought to me for approval before being done.We don’t need another incident like back in your family’s communication room. Your brother’s anger is nothing but a kitten’s mewl compared to the master’s rage.” She appeared properly chastised, so he moved onto the third condition. “Similarly, three! Do _not_ , under any circumstances or for any reason, piss Asura off: not because you’re teasing him, not because you for some reason have the greatest death wish of any court lady I've ever met -- no reason. Ever. You may not value your life and safety over the good of your country, but there are those of us that do.”

 

Tsubaki dropped her gaze instantly, cheeks reddening in a not-unbecoming blush, and Black Star once more stomped on any thoughts that may have sprung to the surface of his mind.

 

A moment of silence passed between the two companions, and Black Star cleaned his nails with a blade that shook in his grasp. What was he doing? What was he _condemning_ her to, by agreeing to this? He felt vaguely nauseous.

 

“Okay,” Tsubaki said simply, and Black Star’s head snapped up so fast he heard the crackle of pinched nerves. “I agree to your terms; they are not unreasonable, and I know Maka would feel better for it, too.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, hearing the double-meaning in the way her words trailed off. “But?”

 

It seemed the noblewoman could no longer hold herself back, frustration and desire and pure, raw _longing_ washed over Black Star as she launched herself at him, as her nails scratched his wrists in her haste to clasp his hands. “ _Won’t_ you please reconsider your obstinate refusal of maintaining our Bond?”

 

Someone poured a bucket of mountain water over him, and his spine stiffened just like his gaze. He knew the effect this expression of his had; he had practiced it in the looking glass that hung in the barrack’s privy, until it conveyed just exactly what he wanted it to say.

 

Tsubaki’s shoulders slumped for a moment before the fire was back in her gaze. “Oh, quit being ridiculous, Black Star! Surely you feel it! Surely you know how well suited we are for this Bond; why do you deny it?”

 

“So now I’m obstinate _and_ ridiculous!” His lips pulled back from sharp teeth in a snarl, and something snapped between the two of them. He could feel her anger, her hurt, her hope -- and it killed him even as he tried to scrape the rubble of his soul back into a feasible wall. “Stay the fuck away from me!”

 

He was begging now, scrambling shamefully away from her. Moss stained his trousers and twigs stabbed his palms, but anything was better than her beseeching, searching gaze, better than the tears that he saw her blink away.

 

The nobility didn’t cry. They were made of bloodstained iron and corrupt gold; they were made of the raw blisters and the broken souls of his people.

 

Black Star sank his teeth into the soft inside of his cheek. She was beautiful like the blossom of the nightshade plant, luring the unsuspecting closer and closer until they’d had a taste of its sweet poison; he bet she tasted better than the destroying angel mushroom, glowing so beautifully in the light of the full moon. Black Star shook his head violently, shoving the memories, the horrified screams to the dark corners of his mind.

 

“Black Star, please --” she whispered, voice soft and alluring; deadly to the mind, it numbed all sense, and he felt himself falling further to the gentle call of madness. His own nightshade, his own soft whisper of fatality.

 

Well, at least it was sweet, he supposed.

 

He opened his mouth to give in, to submit to her wish, but the sound of someone crashing through underbrush had him on his feet. No one from Kalacanda moved that loudly, would risk awakening whatever lay sleeping deeper in the woods, but there was something about the footsteps he heard beneath the great stomping of a true buffoon -- the soft, measured steps of a warrior -- that put his nerves on edge. Automatically, one hand locked around Tsubaki’s wrist as he dragged her into the shadows, his other one reaching for the serrated knife that hung from his thigh.

 

Mind entirely focused on keeping her safe, hidden, he pressed the two of them close to the tree, deep into the shadow. He could feel the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, could smell the bitter tang of her fear, her confusion. Subconsciously, he inhaled deeply, searching for that light floral scent of her oil, searching for the concoction that heightened his senses.

 

“Black St--” his mind was far away as he covered her mouth with his palm -- far away, amongst the trees and the underbrush. _Who was it?_ What did they _want_? Why were they _here?_ He could hear his blood surging through his veins, hear the whispers that sent gentle caresses of fear, of cold bloodthirst down his spine.

 

The dark gods always had liked the damned and broken.

 

Someone was speaking, calling in a language he couldn’t understand. The former assassin closed his eyes, resting his forehead on something warm and soft, but uncomfortable, as he threw his hearing out even further.

 

What were they _saying_?

 

Something stabbed him in the gut, a quick jab, and he lept into action, eyes wild, heart thumping. Reflex jammed his forearm across narrow shoulders, brought his knife up to a slender throat. Gasping, panting, the blue of the night sky, the deep blue of her eyes, grounded him once more.

 

“Tsubaki,” he breathed, tension leaving his body as he slumped, once more, against her.

 

This time, when the whispers came, they were soothing; when the gentle caresses down his spine came, they spread warmth and comfort through shaking muscles.

 

And she asked why he wouldn’t allow their Bond.

 

If only she knew, maybe she would want to sever their connection. If only she knew, maybe she would want to go back to Shibusen.

 

 _If only she knew, maybe she would stay_.

 

Wresting his leg from yet another hidden root with a grunt of annoyance, his just healing scars aching anew with the abruptness of the action, Soul ignored Maka’s knowing smile. As they continued to trek through this gods forsaken forest, he missed that smile the instant she turned her back to move on.

 

Perhaps gods forsaken was the wrong term, he thought darkly as the screech of a hawk reached his ears followed by the shrill scream of its victim. Surely the Dark Gods lingered here, ruling over this place with an iron fist of fear and madness. In truth, that was what had him so nervous.

 

Trepidation sat in his stomach like a stone, thick and heavy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lady Tsubaki--though he had never met the woman, he knew from Maka that she would sooner die than betray them. Soul did not, however, trust this place, this situation, or that thrice damned bastard assassin. Were he alone it would be different; he’d stalk or skulk and execute his duty with caution, execute the damned Kalacandian snake like he should have the first time. But he wasn’t alone, not anymore, and Maka did not skulk and Maka did not stalk and Maka did few things with caution when her heart was involved.

 

At least, once she was sure she wanted it to be involved. Of this there could be no question when the meeting was with the one she called sister, so once they were off the beaten path, she struck out boldly, following the carefully penned instructions her childhood friend had sent. And while that friend might never lead them into the briars, her so-called Warrior surely would. If this was a trap--well, then a lot of people were about to die, and Soul hoped he and Maka would not number among them.

 

Probably his only regret even still would be if something happened to _her_. He didn’t want to die, of course not, but would do so gladly for his Warrior. She was--she was--well, from the moment they had Bonded, she had become everything. Everything he had sought, everything he wanted, everything he could never quite deserve. _Everything_.

 

She was his partner, his soulmate, and though she might be stubborn and reckless, she was also strong and brave, with a heart so beautiful, so pure, he wasn’t sure he knew how _not_ to love her.

 

Really, his heart had been lost the moment they had Bonded, alone as he had been all his life, alone in his power, in his bitterness and in his strangeness. He would never, could never, regret that loss wherever it might lead him. He would follow her anywhere.

 

It was a good thing they were both keeping a firm rein on any thoughts and feelings flowing between them just now. It had been her idea not to share the fear of the situation they were about to face so as not to amplify it, but Soul breathed a small sigh of relief at the idea that it also saved her from his ridiculous, wayward thoughts, from the strength of feelings she did not share.  

 

There were times he thought she might never share them--he couldn't say the thought didn't sting.

 

Yet, Bonded pairs were closer than most lovers, and he and Maka were closer than most Bonded pairs. He was content enough. Really, it was far more than he deserved, far more than he had ever known. It could be enough.

 

Still, he mused as she turned back towards him, the falling sunlight glinting against her golden hair--her look of concern at his quiet, guarded brooding echoing within his soul in a way that was warm and welcoming--it didn’t mean he wouldn’t sometimes wish for more.

 

The sound of voices ahead stopped the thought cold, but only seemed to confuse her for the barest instant as she listened then shouted, “Tsubaki! Tsubaki, I’m here!” then ran off towards the source, heedless.

 

Soul didn’t even have time to sigh, just grunted “Wait,” as he hurried to follow, never as fleet of foot as his Warrior even when she wore armor as she did now.

 

By the time he caught up, his slim moment of hesitation costing him, she had already hurled herself bodily at another woman, tall, slender, with long black hair tied up carefully. While the warrior’s garb she wore was strange, he knew her instantly from what he’d glimpsed of Maka’s memories. This-- _this_ was Lady Nakatsukasa, at last.

 

The two women stood holding each other, their chatter too fast and low to catch, though the _feeling_ of it, the sheer elation, was clear enough. Behind them he saw one he had glimpsed only once before, a man with shockingly blue hair who stood back with a frown, hand on the hilt of his blade. Perhaps he was a few years older, he certainly stood in better light, dappled though it was, but that this was the man who had made the attempt on Prince Mortimer was unmistakable.

 

“You,” Soul growled, the word coming unbidden, for though he had known, had expected, _seeing_ it was different. This piece of shit was Bonded to one his own Warrior loved dearly. Well, he knew a sure way to end that Bond, to end the threat such a man posed to them all. He wasn’t really the killing type, but he wasn’t about to make the mistake of letting the man live _twice_ if he proved a threat.

 

For his part, the Assassin caught sight of Soul and actually grinned, a cocky, sure grin as he pulled out his sword part way. “So you’re Dame Albarn’s Wizard? Come at me, cur, if you think you can get lucky twice.”

 

He wanted to, he was about to, but Lady Nakatsukasa turned from Maka then, hissing, “Black Star, no. These are my friends.”

 

The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Some friends,” he nodded towards Soul, who bared his teeth back automatically, the need to do something to protect Maka nearly overpowering. But it was Maka’s forceful forbidding, flowing from her soul in waves, that held him in place. Maka, whose own soul stood in confusion as she looked at the Warrior she had ignored up until then, as she considered him, as she _recognized_ him.

 

“ _Blake?_ ” She blinked her confusion.

 

He blinked as well, eyes narrowed as he looked, really _looked_.

 

Then he did something that surprised them all. He laughed, long and loud, hand holding his stomach.

 

“Shit--shit--” he gasped out, trying to catch his breath. “ _Short Stack_? _Dame Maka Albarn_ \--is _Short Stack_?”

 

She was grinning herself, shaking her head. “Well, I didn’t think the courtly protector Tsubaki described was that street kid I used to play with visiting Nan and Pa with Mama, but here you are. You always said you’d surpass the gods,” she laughed, “Bonding with my sister was a good start.”

 

Soul did not like where this was going. At all. Maka--knew this guy? _Liked_ this guy? No. Not--no. He had tried to kill the Prince, had tried to kill _him_ ; he was a fucking threat not a friend, and she needed to remember that.

 

"Maka, wait," Soul interrupted, voice soft but firm, and then he tightened their Bond--flooding memories through them both that he hadn't thought necessary to show her before, thinking his conviction enough. Clearly it was not.

 

Vaguely, as he and Maka both froze for an instant, he heard the Assassin exclaim, "What the fuck is wrong with them?" heard Lady Nakatsukasa--Tsubaki, Maka corrected in his head automatically even through the haze of his memories of that night--murmur that they were communicating through the Bond, heard the sharp ring of steel as the Assassin unsheathed his blade.

 

Instinctually, Soul threw up an earth Shield to block the blue haired man, separating him from the others, and Tsubaki and Maka both shouted their protest.

 

Something like chaos ensued as Soul rushed to Maka's side, as Maka shrieked at him to stop, as Tsubaki used her magic to crumble the shield, as Black Star emerged, shaking with fury.

 

"I'll teach your freak ass to trifle with a god, you utter fucking peon!" he bellowed, and Soul extended a hand, ready and able to silence him for good. Maka grabbed his arm to stop him and Tsubaki threw herself in front of her Warrior and all stood panting.

 

"You both--have to stop!" Maka said, and Soul could feel the strength of her fury, nearly toppling him in its utter ferocity. "They are Bonded, Soul, and strongly so. To hurt him is to hurt Tsubaki, don't you see? You can't. _I won't allow it_."

 

The Elemental Wizard let out a breath at that. He wouldn't hurt Tsubaki; he wouldn't do anything against Maka's wishes unless he was convinced it was the only way to save her life.

 

It didn't mean he didn't still want to gut the bastard, and he glared and snarled, Maka's anger and his own running hot within his belly.

 

Blake grinned back, face twisted into something feral. "Make your move, you fucking peasant. Just one move. I'm gonna enjoy this."

 

"You will do no such thing," Tsubaki said, voice even yet with an unmistakable undercurrent of threat. "To hurt him would be to hurt Maka. Would you slay my sister, Black Star? The girl you once called friend?"

 

To his utter surprise, the other man deflated at that, frowned and shook his head, though he said nothing. His eyes moved to rest on the dirt beneath him, though his stance was still taut, like a threatened animal ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Feeling Maka's urging, seeing the mix of command and plea in her steady green gaze, Soul himself sighed and then, in a show of intent, sat on the ground, resting his chin on his hands. He could do just as much damage from this position if it came to it, but it _looked_ less threatening.

 

Seeming satisfied, Maka turned her back to him, sending a silent thanks through their Bond as she strode nearer to the one she called Blake.

 

This had Soul's hackles up again, but she sent a placating thought to him -- he won't hurt me, I promise, trust me -- and because he _did_ , he suppressed the urge to just entomb the bastard in earth and be done with it.

 

"Why did you try to kill Prince Mortimer?" she said as she neared, voice carefully controlled.

 

The Assassin moved his eyes from the dirt to meet her gaze, green on green, and shrugged.

 

"You're a Knight, short stack, or were. You know how it goes. Orders are orders and where I'm from, you don't follow them, you end up with your head on a spike decorating the castle walls. Only reason I'm still alive when I didn't actually meet my damned objective is because when I described that asshole," he nodded towards Soul who glared at him, "Asura was fucking pissed that his spies missed the tidbit that there's a fucking Elemental in the King of Shibusen's employ."

 

Maka frowned at that. "I wouldn't assassinate someone in cold blood, even if ordered."

 

"Yeah, well, I value my life over some fuckwit Prince, so," the man shrugged carelessly.

 

"That Prince is our friend," Tsubaki said mildly, and the shock and hurt on her face were plain even to Soul, who knew her only through Maka's thoughts.

 

The callous bravado deflated again in a way that Soul couldn't quite fathom as the other man turned to his Wizard.

 

"I didn't know you then, and--ugh--you don't get it! You grew up sheltered from this, and--" he threw up his hands in his agitation "--fuck, _I don't have to explain myself to any of you_."

 

"I am the only thing keeping my Wizard from killing you," Maka said suddenly, unexpectedly. "And whatever you may think of your skills, trust me when I say he _can_. So yes, if you wish me to continue to value your life, I would have honesty. I understand you did your duty. What I want to know is, if ordered to kill the Prince or _any of us_ again--would you? For I intend to return Tsubaki to Shibusen, and if you are to return with us--"

 

"Wait, Maka," Tsubaki said, and she looked oddly stern. Maka looked at her, confused by the interruption.

 

"What's wrong?" she asked, a line of worry creasing her brow.

 

"I'm not returning with you. I cannot." While the tall, elegant woman had her mouth set in a firm line, her eyes were little short of pleading.

 

"Tsubaki, no," Maka shook her head, stunned. "You must return. There is--"

 

"Listen to me, sister," the taller woman strode closer, clasping the Warrior's hands. "I cannot flee like a thief in the night. As you yourself discovered, Asura is our greatest enemy, and the spies who had been set amongst him are missing, yes? I cannot, must not flee when I can act as the eyes and ears of the King, when I am in a position to help our country, our people, to perhaps prevent this from escalating into the devastation wrought by the last war." The woman shook her head. "No, Maka, I would never be able to live with myself if I did not do all I could."

 

"But Tsubaki," Maka said desperately, eyes bright. Soul could feel her surprise that her normally mild, unobtrusive sister should stand up to make such a choice, surprise at how much she had changed, had grown, but beneath that surprise was also sheer fear, and he wanted to hold her, reassure her. But this was not his place, not here and now. "It is too much, too dangerous. The King will surely kill you if you are discovered and you--" her eyes flicked to Blake, her mixed feelings, her uncertainty washing over Soul in the moment "--there is no one you can trust, no one to watch out for you." Soul noticed only a stern look from his Wizard quelled the Assassin's protest. Maka noticed neither. "Please, Tsubaki, I beg of you--"

 

"Sister," the taller woman's voice was quiet and sure as she squeezed her friend's hands yet more firmly. "You could do no less in my place. You would risk all for country and King and laugh in the face of danger were you in my place, I know you would. You have always been the courageous one, always the one exploring the world and challenging every wrong--but now? Now it is my turn to be courageous. My turn to do what I must. My turn to be as brave, as strong, as forthright as my dear sister has always been. Do not ask me to turn tail when you would not, my friend. Do not ask me to do less than you would in my place. Or do you think me less, unworthy to make this sacrifice?"

 

Maka visibly squirmed for several moments under her friend's placid, unwavering gaze, her internal struggle radiating clearly from deep within. Finally, Soul could feel reluctant acceptance slither into place through their Bond, though her unhappiness was also palpable. She sighed. "No, Tsubaki," she shook her head. "It is only that I am selfish. That I would keep you from all harm, keep you to myself. But you are right--I would do the same, and though my dearest wish is to see you safe, I would not demand it of you--if this is your choice, then I will help you to see it through." She forced a smile, and Soul could feel her anguish, the tears unshed at what she was being asked. Yet also, the smallest sliver of pride--tiny amidst the other emotions, yet bright and strong nonetheless. "You've changed, my sister, grown stronger."

 

Tsubaki smiled back, a wide, beautiful smile as her eyes flicked for a moment to Soul then returned to Maka. "So have you."

 

Maka nodded at that, but her thought was elsewhere, on Tsubaki, on the danger she would place herself amidst once more. "Perhaps I might stay somehow, assure that you are protected."

 

"She has a protector," Black Star looked at the other Warrior as he stepped closer, face grim, and this time Tsubaki did not stop him, but nodded slightly. "And whatever you might think, I don't fail those under my care, nor do I betray them. Lady Nakatsukasa is my responsibility. I won't betray her or any she calls friends. I don't betray those I call friend either, Short Stack, and that includes you, even if you've forgotten. What happened with your idiot Prince and your fucking piece of shit Wizard's got nothing to do with you or Lady Tsubaki, and I have no love for Asura any more than you. If your goal is to shit on his plans--well, I couldn't get much deeper in the pile than I am now. I'll help Lady Tsubaki and keep her safe, don't you worry. I'll protect my loyal charges cause that's what gods do."

 

Maka actually smiled at that, a wave of nostalgia hitting her so hard it had Soul reeling. "You really haven't changed, have you?" she said to the man almost fondly.

 

"Nah, stars don't change, they just grow brighter," he grinned back, and amidst a slew of mixed feelings, Soul could sense his Warrior suppressing a sudden urge to hug the acursed Assassin that had his own hackles up even higher.

 

Turning her eyes back to Tsubaki, Maka nodded. "I think he'll protect you. But I would like to stay to help, too, Soul and I both. We can--"

 

Tsubaki was already shaking her head as she cut her off yet again. "You cannot. Soul is known, a prize to be sought--you heard what Black Star said. Asura would have him killed or worse if you are discovered, and you with him--directly or indirectly, it matters not; you are Bonded. Where one goes the other must follow. No sister, I will do this myself... but not alone, as you well know. You must return to Shibusen and aid in their efforts, but I will relay all I know to you as I know it."

 

Her pain was palpable as Maka swallowed and nodded. "Alright," she said quietly. Soul could feel her heart breaking and wanted to rip his own out to staunch the flow, to end her grief and fear. "But if--if you fear discovery, if it goes wrong--flee. Flee and we will fly to you. Promise me that much."

 

Tsubaki nodded and the tears that stained her face were matched by those on the cheeks of his strong, steadfast Warrior. "You have my word," she said, voice choked, and for a while they held each other tightly as the two men looked on in silence.

 

Finally, after some time had passed, Tsubaki leaned back, smiling down at the other woman through her tears. "But come, sister, there is much to say, much to share, and little time, for we must be back to the castle by nightfall. Let us begin to work out this puzzle together as we always have, for I need your counsel desperately."

 

Soul sighed as the two women sank to a seated position, resuming his own place in the moss as he looked on, watching the other man surreptitiously though it was halfhearted at best--Maka believed him, and so he had begun to as well, much as it pained him to do so. Her conviction was so deep, he could not help but to be swayed by it when their Bond ran yet deeper still.

 

Sighing again, he placed his head on his knees, prepared for a long afternoon as his Warrior spent these few last precious hours with her sister.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 


End file.
